


What You Could Release

by chalicedflowers



Series: 2013 multifandom trope bingo [3]
Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles as Pyrrha, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, First Time, M/M, Underage kind of, Unrepentant porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalicedflowers/pseuds/chalicedflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Achilles as Pyrrha is something Patroclus never knew he wanted. But when he sees Achilles dressed as a woman he realizes what he really wants, and that what he wants is his for the having. Achilles is more than on board with this.</p>
<p>Written for Zoop's 2013 multifandom trope bingo</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Could Release

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Using oil as lube is really bad for you and can cause infections (and is also bad if you’re using latex condoms as it can cause them to break). Also I don’t subscribe to the belief that penetrative sex is the only ‘real’ form of sex and that their relationship would have been lesser without penetrative sex. So, please don’t hate me.  
> The fig milk in the lipstick came from Queen Elizabeth’s recipe for lipstick which included fig’s milk. I figured that Achilles likes figs, he might use it in lipstick too.  
> Possibly underage because they're both 16 at this point (I'm pretty sure) and while that was over the age of consent back then depending on your location the same cannot be said nowadays.
> 
> Written for the crossdressing square in Zoop's 2013 multifandom trope bingo

Patroclus’ breath caught in his throat as he made eye contact with Achilles. The other man looked stunning; his green eyes rimmed with a dark, smoky kohl; his hair pulled away from his face with a few golden strands curling around his jaw; and his already trim waist accented with a small jeweled belt. Patroclus could feel himself stirring as Achilles’ eyes widened and his soft, plump mouth fell open. And what a mouth it was. Carefully painted with red ochre, Achilles’ delicate Cupid’s bow rose and fell like the swell of a woman’s breast (and _oh_ , finally Patroclus could finally understand why the lip was named for Cupid’s famed bow, how it could pierce a man with Cupid’s arrow and make him feel such a rush that the rest of the world fell away) and all Patroclus could think of was those plush lips wrapped around himself, marking his manhood with that red paint, marking him as Achilles’. 

Patroclus understood that men who dressed as women were abominations, that they defied all that was holy and civilized, but right now all he wanted was to take Achilles, to look down on that painted face and run his hands over the emphasized curves of his lover. Achilles made as beautiful a woman as he did a man (and wasn’t that just unfair, that Achilles was beautiful as both sexes while Patroclus was unprepossessing as a man and unthinkable as a woman). Patroclus forced himself through the meeting, barely aware of the conversation or of Deidameia sobbing in the background, at least until he discovered that Achilles, the man who he had been lost without the past few months, had married a woman in his absence. And had lain with her and impregnated her. The next moments were a blur but what stood out were Achilles’ watery green eyes and the kohl that ran down his high cheekbones, smearing darkness over his golden skin. 

Later, when they were alone, Patroclus pushed Achilles on their bed, running his hand along the emphasized curve of Achilles’ waist, completely entranced by the way Achilles’ eyes shone out from behind his kohl. He leaned down and captured Achilles’ lips in his own, ran his tongue across his lower lip and tasted the sweet fig milk and powdered ochre. Achilles moaned softly, his mouth falling open for Patroclus’ wandering tongue. Their mouths moved together, smearing the red pigment across both of their faces. Achilles’ hand moved between them, reaching for Patroclus beneath his tunic.

“Wait, wait,” Patroclus panted, halting Achilles’ hand and pulling away. Achilles looked hurt for a moment before Patroclus leaned forward once more and gently pressed their mouths together. “You’re so beautiful Achilles. Please, just let me…”

Patroclus ran his hand up Achilles’ longer women’s tunic before brushing his fingers against the spot that filled Patroclus with shameful desire. To want to treat a man as a woman was an abomination and to imagine taking Achilles, the greatest of all Greeks, was unthinkable. But now, with Achilles in women’s skirts and with lip rouge smeared across his face, his hair falling from its feminine up do, somehow the shame of society fell away and it was simply the two of them and their own desires.

Achilles hissed as Patroclus’ hand brushed against him. His eyes shut and he took in a haggard breath before looking directly at Patroclus. Their eyes met for the longest time, green eyes searching brown intently, looking for something in their depths. Achilles seemed to find what he was looking for. He nodded and leant back on the pillows, bending his knees so the fabric cascaded down his shapely thighs.

Patroclus pushed the skirts up further, exposing Achilles’ manhood to the open air. He ran a hand down Achilles’ thigh, grasping onto his flagging erection and stroking.

“Is this what you want?” Patroclus asked, his eyes flickering between Achilles’ eyes, mouth, and manhood.

Achilles reached up and brought Patroclus’ mouth to his own in a heated kiss. When they broke away Achilles kept his forehead pressed to Patroclus’. “I’ve wanted this since I knew I wanted you, Patroclus. Please.”

Patroclus nodded, and brought his finger once more to Achilles’ hole. He tried to gently press it in but Achilles cried out in pain.

“Forgive me, Achilles!” Patroclus said, immediately bringing both hands up to cup Achilles’ pained face.

“It is no matter,” Achilles breathed, his face evening out. They were silent a moment before Achilles’ eyes caught on a platter of fruits and oils left by a servant on the small wooden table in a corner of the room. “Patroclus, the oils.”

Patroclus frowned but brought over the platter anyway and placed it next to the bed, standing unsurely in front of Achilles. Achilles knelt up on the bed and pulled Patroclus’ tunic over his face, leaving him bare in the cold room. He began kissing down Patroclus’ chest, leaving soft pink marks where his teeth caught. He stopped above Patroclus’ penis and looked up through darkened lashes.

“You want me as your whore,” he said, idly stroking Patroclus’ member. “I want you to use me as one.”

Patroclus moaned as Achilles briefly took him in his warm mouth, his blond head bobbing up and down before he pulled off with a soft pop. Achilles lay back on the bed, his skirts hiked to his waist and his legs splayed. He idly stroked himself as Patroclus watched, frozen. Achilles looked like a whore, his legs spread wantonly, his painted lips smeared across his face, his bright green eyes shining out from rings of black. Patroclus almost fell on top of him, greedily sucking on his neck as his hands stroked up Achilles’ thighs, his own hand joining Achilles’.

Achilles gasped as Patroclus’ hand squeezed him gently. “Now Patroclus, please.”

“But I’ll hurt you.”

Achilles leaned over the side of the bed and plucked one of the decanters of oil off the platter and pushed it into Patroclus’ hand.

“Here. Coat your fingers in it, it might make it easier.”

He dipped his fingers into the oil, feeling the slippery liquid coat his skin. When he had three fingers well coated he brought his hand back down to Achilles’ hole and pressed gently, rubbing his finger circles and massaging the muscle. It loosened, and Patroclus managed to push his finger in to the second knuckle. Achilles gasped and Patroclus almost followed; being inside of him was not like he expected, it was warm and tight and felt like nothing he had ever known but everything he had ever wanted. He began to thrust his finger gently, allowing Achilles to get used to the sensation. He inserted another finger, both to the last knuckle this time. Achilles tightened around the intrusion and twisted on the sheets, but his mouth hung open in pleasure. When Patroclus brushed against some swollen mound inside of Achilles he let out a loud cry and arched his back, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. He froze, unsure if he hurt Achilles or not, but the loud moan he received answered his question, as did Achilles finding more purchase on the bed and pushing himself back onto Patroclus’ fingers.

“Do that again,” he panted, eyes wide.

Patroclus acquiesced, and added in a third finger before once more rubbing that spot that make Achilles fall apart. He was rewarded by a high keening sound and Achilles’ hands scrabbling at his back.

“Now, _now_ Patroclus, I want you in me now, _please_.”

He took more of the oil and used it on his ignored penis, allowing himself a few moments simply to enjoy the smooth rhythmic pull of his hand. Achilles’ whimpers brought him back to himself and he lined himself up to Achilles’ entrance.

“I love you,” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on Achilles’ lips as he slowly began to push in. It was a long process, full of stops and starts and soft kisses shared between the two. By the time he was fully sheathed Patroclus was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and trembling from holding back. If Achilles felt amazing around his fingers, what he was experiencing now was beyond description. A piece of himself settled into place finally, a sharp jagged edge he had never noticed until he felt its absence, and he was home. He would never let anyone take Achilles from him again, he would never be parted from this beautiful man who allowed him to join with him so intimately. Achilles accepted him hungrily, the muscles surrounding his penis fluttering and adjusting to his girth.

“Patroclus, move, please.”

“Okay.” Patroclus began moving his hips, small, circular movements to begin with but graduating to deeper and stronger thrusts as Achilles moaned his approval. 

Achilles’ hands scrabbled at Patroclus’ back, his nails scouring the flesh as he arched and writhed beneath the other man. He pulled Patroclus down to him and smashed their mouths together as he moved his hips furiously, speeding up the rhythm Patroclus had established. Eventually kissing gave way to simply breathing each other’s air, their mouths touching and sharing each breath between them as they rocked together. Every so often Patroclus would brush against that one spot and Achilles would bite off a scream, every nerve overstimulated and ready. 

Patroclus reached down and grasped Achilles in his hand, feeling his own climax building. He stroked Achilles in time with his thrusts, trying to keep the rhythm that they had set. Achilles clutched him, drawing him to his chest and crushing his hand between them before coming with a cry. Patroclus felt the warmth of his release splash onto his stomach and, combined with the fluttering of Achilles’ muscles around him, felt his own release spill inside him.

He collapsed on top of Achilles with a grunt and was laughing pushed off. 

“You’re too heavy for me Patroclus,” Achilles grinned. He propped his head on his hand and smiled at Patroclus, still giddy from his release and the adrenaline. “I love you.”

Patroclus reached up to press a soft kiss against Achilles’ lips, his limbs heavy with sleep.

“I love you too. And I will still love you in the morning.” The last sight he saw before he succumbed to sleep was Achilles’ fond gaze, ever-emphasized by that smudge of kohl.

**Author's Note:**

> The title came from the song My Love by Sia


End file.
